After seeing the two return, Dylan put away the book in his hand, stood up, and walked to the bedside. He picked up the latest issue of *Transfiguration Today* from the bed and began tidying up.
He stacked the journals by month, using magic to emboss the edges of the parchment pages with creases shaped like the Hawkwood family crest.
During the summer break, he hadn't had the journals delivered to his home—instead, they'd all been sent to Hogwarts.
"So, what punishment did you get?"
"Huh? You really didn't guess?" Ron said, momentarily stunned.
Dylan blinked. "Didn't you say I'd never guess?"
Ron gave an awkward laugh, scratching his head before slumping into a floral-patterned armchair with a groan. "Ugh! Originally, Professor Snape wanted us to follow Filch's orders and clean bedpans for a whole semester! Otherwise, we'd be kicked out of Hogwarts!"
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Whose bedpans?"
"Filch's, of course!" Ron grumbled, his freckles standing out even more as he flushed with embarrassment, his fingers unconsciously tugging at the armchair's tassels.
Harry rubbed his arm, looking relieved. "Luckily, though Professor McGonagall was furious—"
"I thought her face was going to kill me!" Ron interjected.
Harry nodded in agreement before continuing, "But in the end, with Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore stepping in, we only got detention and extra study time. They didn't make us do anything else."
"And no points were taken," Ron added again.
Dylan looked at the pair, feeling like they were starting to trend toward becoming the next Weasley twins.
Why were they finishing each other's sentences now?
"Just detention? That's not so bad, then."
Dylan's nose twitched as he suddenly caught a strange smell. He glanced at Ron's pocket.
"Look on the bright side." With a flick of his wand, a toy dung bomb floated out of Ron's pocket, startling him.
"At least you've set a new record in Hogwarts' transportation history, right?"
Dylan tossed the dung bomb into the wastebasket.
The anti-odor runes Dylan had etched around the wastebasket's rim shimmered faintly, transforming the stench into a subtle minty freshness.
"Hey! When did they slip that into my pocket?" Ron exclaimed, wide-eyed.
Harry blinked his lashes. "I knew I smelled something weird the whole way here—I thought it was the car's exhaust."
Dylan didn't care much about whether Harry and Ron got detention. In fact, he thought it might even be a good thing.
It meant he could openly hang out in the Forbidden Forest.
Of course, for Harry, many of his current actions could be considered tests from Dumbledore.
To shape a true savior, Dumbledore needed to put him through trials and hardships.
And Dylan had no intention of sticking his nose into it every chance he got.
"I wonder if Quirrell's said anything to old Dumbledore after all this time."
Back when he'd confronted Quirrell, he'd flat-out denied using an Unforgivable Curse on him in the Forbidden Forest.
But he'd been wearing an Invisibility Cloak at the time—and whoever attacked Quirrell could also turn invisible.
That alone, Dylan felt, was a gaping flaw.
Even though he'd brushed off the Invisibility Cloak detail back then, maybe making others think he'd borrowed Harry's, he wasn't sure if Dumbledore would still suspect him.
But as a kid, there shouldn't be much reason to suspect him, right?
After all, the person who attacked Quirrell would have to be an adult wizard with a deep mastery of dark magic.
What kid could possibly cast Unforgivable Curses that many times?
Given that no one had bothered him even when he occasionally robbed dark wizards over the summer, Dylan figured Dumbledore might, at most, connect the attack on Quirrell to the mysterious "Karthus" who'd popped up during the break.
"It shouldn't trace back to me."
Dylan mused to himself.
"Didn't expect being young would end up as my shield."
Ron and Harry's journey to school this time had been harrowing, and even after resting in the dorm for a while, they still hadn't recovered.
Not until Seamus and Neville returned too.
Neville came in carrying a vibrant potted flower, planning to use it as a dorm decoration.
Seamus accidentally set off an Exploding Snap card behind him, sending rainbow-colored sparks bursting out and startling the Fat Lady in the portrait outside, who ducked into the next frame.
"Hey, what are you doing?!"
Ron jumped up, swatting at the magical sparks that splashed onto his pant leg—only to realize they were harmless fireworks improved by the twins. He relaxed with a sigh.
The dorm door shut.
When Neville and the others saw Harry and Ron, the group immediately erupted into excited chatter.
Suddenly, Ron wasn't tired anymore. With colorful magical sparks still flickering on his leg, he bragged animatedly to Neville and the others, his face flushed.
Dylan flipped through *Transfiguration Today* a bit longer, picking up some new knowledge and intriguing perspectives on transfiguration.
When bedtime finally rolled around, he cast a quick *Scourgify* on himself and climbed into bed.
After a long day of travel, he was a little tired. He didn't summon his coal ball familiar and just went to sleep instead.
Ron and the others, hoarse from talking, tidied up and eventually crawled into their own beds too.
The night passed quietly.
The next morning, sunlight streamed in through the window.
Dylan went down to the Great Hall for breakfast with Neville and the others.
They'd just sat down and picked out their food when—
"Hoo, hoo!"
A sluggish owl flew in from the doorway, looking exhausted. It barely reached their table before plummeting headfirst.
"Oh no—Errol! Don't do that!!"
Ron shouted in alarm, but there was no stopping his ancient owl from crashing like a malfunctioning fuzzball straight into Dylan's bowl of silver ear fungus and lotus seed porridge.
It hit with a solid splat.
Soup splashed everywhere.
The old owl kept flailing.
Dylan hadn't expected Errol to dive into his bowl so fast, but his reflexes were quick enough to keep the broth from splashing onto him.
"Tergeo!"
A spiraling gust burst from the tip of Dylan's wand, forming a circular whirlwind barrier around Errol in an instant.
The flying droplets were all caught by the barrier, swirling along its edges.
With a gentle flick of his wand, Dylan gathered the spilled soup into the whirlwind and redirected it into an empty bowl.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Errol slowly rose from the porridge, hovering in midair.
"Scourgify."
A soft magical glow enveloped Errol, cleaning off the porridge stains and grime. Even its old, tangled feathers became fluffier and sleeker.
"Hoo, hoo!"
---
Errol shook himself, dropping the red envelope from his beak onto the table in front of Ron before letting out a sharp, clear hoot.
Hermione, spotting the old owl she'd seen over the summer, couldn't help but ask Ron, "It's really getting old. When are you going to give it a break?"
Ron ignored Hermione, his eyes fixed on the red envelope in front of him. His whole body seemed to slump.
"A Howler, huh? Wonder who sent it?" Dylan said, bringing over a fresh plate of breakfast and winking. "Tough one to guess."
Ron's face went ashen as he stared at the letter, his head shaking slightly but constantly. "It's gotta be my mom! I can feel another scolding coming!"
"Look on the bright side," Dylan said, slicing into a piece of smoked salmon, the clink of his knife and fork against the plate ringing out crisply. "At least your dad might get a chance to tinker with that flying car."
"Don't bother looking on the bright side. He can't even fix it. The car's already been handed over to the Ministry of Magic by Hogwarts," Ron replied, his vision darkening for a moment.
Harry coughed from the side. "I've heard Howlers can be dangerous. Either way, you should open it. Otherwise…"
Neville nodded vigorously in agreement.
"I know, I know. Otherwise, it'll be even worse," Ron said.
—Like the letter exploding on its own.
—Or chasing Ron down and exploding.
Ron let out a deep sigh, his face drained of color. He stared at the red envelope and swallowed hard.
Finally, steeling himself, he gritted his teeth, grabbed the Howler that felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and slowly broke the wax seal.
—Dylan had already cast a Silencing Charm on himself in advance.
Several young witches and wizards nearby who'd noticed the situation quickly plugged their ears.
And then—
"RONALD WEASLEY—!!!"
Mrs. Weasley's usually gentle voice now carried a furious edge, amplified dozens—hundreds—of times through the Howler. It boomed through the Great Hall like a thunderclap.
The Howler fell onto the table and stood upright on its own, almost human-like. The envelope's flap opened and closed like a mouth, the ribbon on the wax seal flapping like a tongue.
"How dare you? How dare you sneak off with that car? You're driving me up the wall! I'm ashamed of you—!!"
The furious voice rattled the candelabras on the table.
Students from other houses stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Ron.
Ron's face flushed bright red. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor. He ducked his head, his ears turning as red as ripe tomatoes, muttering under his breath, "Mom, I know I messed up, please stop…"
"Do you have any idea how we felt when we got home and saw the car was gone? Last night, after getting a joint letter from Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore, your father and I were humiliated!"
"I can't believe you'd do something like this. Your father's being investigated by the Ministry because of it! And you nearly got Harry killed along with you!"
Harry's mouth twitched, and he buried his head low, shielding his face with a soup spoon.
"If you keep messing up at Hogwarts, you're coming straight back home! Do you hear me, Ron?!"
The Howler flicked its ribbon at Ron as if sticking out its tongue.
Then it abruptly turned toward Dylan.
Dylan suddenly had a bad feeling.
"Oh, dear, we didn't get a proper chance to say hello at the station. Happy birthday, by the way."
"And Annie, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud of you."
As the Howler finished speaking, it spat at Ron one last time before tearing itself to shreds.
Dylan paused for a moment before saying, "Flying a magic car to school is pretty cool, honestly—just a bit dangerous. Mrs. Weasley's only worried about you."
Ron's wounded expression didn't soften at Dylan's words.
With a wave of his wand, Dylan cleared away the envelope scraps and added, "Plus, with your dad under investigation by the Ministry, who knows if he'll keep his job? I totally get why Mrs. Weasley's upset."
Ron's face shifted through a range of emotions.
"Alright, first period's Herbology. Let's finish eating and get to class," Dylan said.
Neville, sitting next to Dylan, lit up at the mention of Herbology for the first class of the term, his chubby face glowing with excitement.
With Dylan breaking the tension, the surrounding students resumed eating, no longer focused on the scene.
Only a few Slytherins kept snickering, letting out occasional wheezy laughs.
"Are they laughing at me?" Ron asked, glancing over.
"Nah, maybe they just have asthma," Dylan said with a grin.
Malfoy's face stiffened instantly.
When Dylan looked his way, Malfoy avoided eye contact, silently dropping his gaze.
*That blasted Hawkwood!*
After their last encounter in Diagon Alley, his father had come home and chewed him out狠狠地!
It was all because of this annoying git!
And his father—why'd he have to mock someone in front of them?
*Your son didn't even come in first!*
And then *he* got mocked instead!
Fuming, Malfoy stabbed his knife and fork into the small piece of lamb chop in front of him.
Ron and Harry hurriedly finished their breakfast and left the Great Hall.
Dylan didn't join them, instead taking his time with his meal before heading to class alongside Neville, who was going the same way.
"I haven't asked yet—how was your summer?" Dylan said.
Neville, clutching his bag strap, nodded with a cheerful grin. "Pretty good. Actually, really good."
"Professor Sprout's been giving me tips on growing plants—like adding a pinch of moonstone powder to the soil to make the leaves shinier. I tried it, and it worked amazingly!"
"It's made the plants at home look so nice that even Gran's been pleased. She's hardly told me off at all lately, heh!"
At that, Neville's smile widened, his mouth curving up and his eyes squinting with joy.
"Sounds like a win," Dylan said with a nod.
"What about you? What'd you do over the summer?" Neville asked.
"Hmm, tested some magical theories, ran a few experiments, made some money… that's about it," Dylan replied.
"Wow, that sounds packed! Bet you got a lot out of it, huh?" Neville said, a little envious.
"Gains, yeah," Dylan chuckled. "Plenty of those."
Just then, as they neared the greenhouses, Professor Sprout came striding toward them. Her bushy hair bounced with her brisk steps, and her eyes flashed with clear annoyance.
Ron and a few other students trailed behind her.
Before Dylan could process it, Sprout barked, "There's a problem with Greenhouse Two. We're moving to Greenhouse Three for class!"
It was the first time Dylan—or Neville—had heard such a sharp tone from Professor Sprout.
But it didn't take long for Dylan to understand why Professor Sprout was so upset the moment he saw Lockhart swaggering out from behind her.
"Oh! Dylan, there you are! I only found out after taking the job that you were last year's top student. It's such a shame I didn't get to properly host you at the bookstore."
Lockhart's laugh was outrageously theatrical, the kind that made you wince just hearing it.
He was dressed in a pale purple robe, with an enormous gold brooch pinned at the collar—a brooch shaped, unbelievably, like a relief of his own profile.
Lockhart flashed his signature dazzling smile at everyone present, his pearly white teeth practically gleaming in the sunlight.
"Oh, I bet you don't know what Professor Sprout and I were just up to, do you?"
"Harry asked how to treat injuries from the Whomping Willow, so I gave Professor Sprout a little demonstration. I reckon she probably doesn't know much about it herself, does she?"
"Of course, I wouldn't want you all to think I'm better at Herbology than Professor Sprout—she's the real expert, after all."
"I've just happened to encounter all sorts of marvelous and rare plants during my years of travel, which is how I've picked up these incredibly tricky and obscure bits of knowledge."
In the brief moments since they'd met, Lockhart had already launched into one of his grand, self-aggrandizing speeches.
Dylan promptly turned and followed Professor Sprout.
Neville hurried over too, jogging to catch up.
"Goodness…" Neville clicked his tongue. "Is this professor always so—so over-the-top?"
"I wouldn't know," Dylan said with a shake of his head. "Some people are just like that, I guess."
Neville smacked his lips. "Poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him."
Dylan burst out laughing. "You're right about that."
"But that professor took Harry off somewhere…" Neville said, a hint of worry in his voice.
"Don't worry about it. When Harry and the others flew in with that magical car, they crashed into the Whomping Willow in the Forbidden Forest and got a few scrapes. It's not a big deal, though, and he'll be back soon."
Dylan quickened his pace to keep up with Professor Sprout. "Come on, let's get ready for class."
(End of Chapter)